


Everyday Errantry

by nimblermortal



Category: Young Wizards - Diane Duane
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimblermortal/pseuds/nimblermortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carl has a bad day. Sometimes, perhaps inevitably, this leads to a questioning of wizardry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyday Errantry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DaughterOfKings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterOfKings/gifts).



Carl threw open the door to the house. It was one of those days. He shucked off his coat and threw it on the floor, which was not as satisfying as he had hoped, and stomped down the hall to where Tom was sitting at the small table with a mug of tea - his usual place and, as usual, the table was covered with enough books and papers that it was impossible to tell if he was writing spells or stories.

“I,” Carl growled, “am on errantry, and I greet you.”

Tom looked up, as if he hadn’t heard Carl’s dramatic entry, and said, “That bad, huh?” Sometimes it was his calm approach to things that really drove Carl round the bend.

“I swear my coworkers are overshadowed,” Carl said, “and the only thing stopping me from _doing something_ about it is knowing that that would contribute to the spread of entropy. I’m not sure how, but it probably would.”

“Sit down,” Tom said, pushing his books to the side to make room. He stood up and pushed his mug into Carl’s hands, which was sweet of him even if he knew that Carl preferred coffee. “Try to stay quiet. You’re scaring the dogs.”

As if he had predicted it, they both heard the faint thud of the dog door. Tom gave Carl a small, hopeful smile that probably didn’t mean ‘I told you so’ even if that was absolutely how Carl wanted to interpret it.

“Sit,” Tom said again, so Carl sat, and tried not to think too loudly.

“Sometimes I think the most beautiful thing in the world is you sitting here with a mug and a book when I get home from work,” he said, “because that means the kids aren’t over, which means my day is.”

“Hey,” Tom said, and pressed something against his palm. “I’m going to go boil some water.”

Carl sat for a moment, deliberately not looking at whatever Tom had passed him just because Tom wanted him to. He listened to the slight clanking of Tom moving in the kitchen, and to the way it stilled once the kettle was heating. He tried to make his mind feel like that motion, changing the abrupt clanging to a quiet waiting, and to remember how exasperatedly fond he was of Tom’s teakettle. They had an electric one, they had a coffee maker, both of those worked better and faster, and yet Tom insisted on the teakettle, and the electric water heater had slowly worked itself into the cabinet under the sink, the one place in every kitchen from which nothing returned until strange dripping noises made themselves too evident.

It worked a little, maybe, or at least it distracted him enough that he could look down to see what Tom had handed him this time. It was a book - no surprise there: the first volume of Tom’s manual, open to the Wizard’s Oath. He had to smile when he noticed the difference in the manuals’ fonts; both were clear and easy to read, but Tom’s serifs had just a little more serif.

He’d been repeating ‘I will use that Art for nothing but the service of that Life’ since that loathsome Goodfellow - who had named him, the family should be shot for its malaprop, such words were dangerous in the Speech - started teasing him about being late. As if he weren’t the only one in the office who hadn’t been late in six months. As if the fact that they sold time only became relevant when Carl was the one screwing up.

He reread the Oath slowly anyway, because they didn’t share manuals often and he would never let on how much he enjoyed seeing Tom’s font, knowing that Tom would let him look at his manual. And he loved the neat, clean margins of Tom’s books, when all of his were covered in doodles and fonts that never seemed to soak out of the pages even of the manual.

Tom’s manual included the final sentence of the Oath, as it had the few other times Carl had seen it. He wondered if it always did, or if it faded in and out like the mentions of Timeheart in his own manual. Sometimes Carl doubted. Even wizards did. Sometimes Carl thought it seemed a little too pat; sometimes he just didn’t like the idea of living forever. Sometimes he wondered if reading ‘look always toward the Heart of Time’ in Tom’s manual was the Powers’ way of reminding him even when he didn’t want to be reminded.

The water was boiling. When the house was this quiet, he could hear it, or at least he could hear Tom’s steps and the clink of mugs, and they reminded him to hastily drown what Tom had already given him, even though it was half cold and bitter and, against every law of human decency, took more than one swallow to finish.

“There,” Tom said, leaning over his shoulder a minute later. He traded mugs but stayed leaned over, reading through the Oath again himself. “You know, when I’m upset, I look back here just to make _absolutely certain_ it still says ‘to universe’s end’. I’ve been known to wonder if I really read the thing before I read it.”

Carl was about to reply to that when he looked down at his mug and every bit of anger came rushing back to him. “Tom,” he said, “this is _tea_.”

“Yes,” said Tom. “Wait a few minutes for it to steep before you drink it.”

“You know that I hate tea.”

“Tea is better for you when you’re upset. You don’t need all that caffeine rushing around in your body making everything -”

“You don’t get to decide what is right for me!”

“I do if I have to live with you! You think that just because -”

“-would have been fine if you’d just -”

“-is an _abomination-_ ”

“-decent mug of _coffee_ -”

Tom stopped first. He took a deep breath and stepped back and did that thing where he was waiting patiently for Carl to finish ranting. It was _infuriating_ when he acted like such a fountain of reason, so self-righteous that Carl got fully upset again regardless of whether he actually had something to be upset about. For once he managed to clamp down on actually bellowing and just shut his mouth, glaring at Tom.

“This isn’t what you’re upset about,” Tom said.

“No,” Carl said, “it is. I’m upset because no one this entire day has taken a moment to listen to me.”

“So talk,” Tom said, and he turned the other chair round and leaned over the back, waiting to listen. Carl almost stubbornly shut his mouth again, except that he realized how childish that would be.

“I’m going to go make coffee,” he said, and left the tea to Tom. He could see Tom roll his eyes even without looking.

Tom followed him into the kitchen while the second pot of water was starting to boil, in the _coffee pot_ like a _normal person’s_. Carl didn’t look at him.

“When you take the Oath,” Tom said, “you make a promise to the universe, and when you cast a spell, you can feel the universe leaning in to listen, and that’s heady, don’t get me wrong. Most of a wizard’s job is persuading things to work together and making sure our voice gets heard so we can persuade other people to live by the Oath even if they’ve never heard of it. We have a whole special language for making sure we get heard, but no one ever tells us how to listen.”

Carl didn’t say anything.

“I’m saying that sometimes wizards get lazy, and as Seniors we should know better,” Tom said. “I’m sorry, okay? I should have listened.”

“Okay,” Carl said.

“So?” Tom asked.

“You want me to apologize?” Carl asked.

“All right, I’m sorry, clearly I can’t expect anything of you, you’ve had a rough day so I should just stand here and listen,” Tom said, and then quickly, “No, sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that, I don’t want to have a fight, okay? I was looking forward to you coming home. I had things I wanted to talk to you about. And then you come stomping through the door and expect me to take care of you and I got a bit upset. I should have listened, but I would like you to listen sometimes too.”

“All right,” Carl said. “I’m listening. What were you going to tell me about?”

“You’re not listening.”

“And neither are you.”

He could see Tom nearly give up on him then, nearly leave the room before he narrowed his eyes and concluded that no one was going to force him to give ground. Carl had seen him make that face at the Lone Power, but he was pretty stubborn himself. They both stood silently and listened to the coffee pot. Neither of them said anything while Carl poured himself a mug and treated it gingerly with milk. He turned around and saw Tom had put both of the mugs of tea on the counter next to him, and didn’t seem sure how he was supposed to deal with them without looking silly or making a point he didn’t intend.

“Talk to me,” Carl said, and was surprised to find he meant it. Maybe the coffee was getting to him already.

“Your status flashed to active today,” Tom said. “Want to tell me what that was about?”

“What?” Carl asked. He knew Tom had his manual set to ping him if Carl’s status changed, but he hadn’t the slightest idea what sort of errantry he might have been on. “Is there a precis?”

“Not yet. It was about two thirty? Lasted maybe half an hour?”

“I haven’t the faintest clue,” Carl said, trying to think what he had been doing. “I had a meeting then, but we were there until four. I don’t usually get credit from the Powers for explaining over and over again why you can’t cram ten minutes into the space of two.”

“Well,” said Tom, smiling.

“Well, I could. But I’d get written up for it.” Tom scratched his ear.  “Lone Power works in some really mysterious ways sometimes. I wonder if I won?”

“You’re still here?” Tom said, but Carl was worried.

“Yeah, but I came home pretty overshadowed. What if -”

“You’d notice if the Lone Power had taken up residence inside you,” Tom said. “You are not overshadowed, you are having a bad day. If you don’t believe me, ask Monty. Or the koi, but Monty needs walked anyway.”

Monty, hearing his name, poked his head cautiously through the dog door and looked between them. _Walk_? he asked.

“You’re not in trouble, big guy,” Carl promised. Monty looked dubious. “Come over here and tell me if I smell like evil.”

Monty squeezed the rest of himself through the dog door and walked over to sniff Carl’s leg. He stiffened. Carl was worried for half a second and then he laughed.

“Yes, Carola brought her dog to work again today,” he said.

_Traitor_ , said Monty, but he didn’t resist when Carl reached down and knocked him into a sitting position. He leaned against Carl’s legs so Carl could scratch his ears properly. _You never take me to work._

“If you fit under a desk, and if I had Carola’s job, then we could talk,” Carl said.

“So you’re not possessed, then,” Tom asked. Carl looked back at him through a haze of coffee steam and a dog that was going to fall onto its back and demand tummy rubs soon.

“Guess not,” Carl said. “Sorry.”

“Wish I had the power to cheer you up like that,” Tom said, watching him pat Monty. “I guess that’s why we have the dogs, though.”

“You scared me out of it first, I think,” Carl said.

“My point stands,” Tom said. “So. Are you ready to talk now?”

Carl thought about it. “I think if I do I’ll just get mad again,” he said.

“Okay. So are you ready to listen?”

“What have you got to say?”

“Remember that time I spun sugar?”

Both Carl and Monty stopped what they were doing, Carl in some alarm and Monty hopefully. “I remember the time you tried,” Carl said cautiously. “Do you remember that six different spells, two of your own devising specifically for the purpose, failed to get the sugar out of the cracks in the floor?”

_I helped,_ Monty said. _I could help again._

“Six spells and two slightly magical dogs,” Carl corrected himself. “If you’re trying to scare me out of all bad humors, it’s working.”

Monty sniffed the floor hopefully. Carl, without looking at him, snapped his fingers for him to stop before he could start masticating the linoleum.

“I’m not proposing another try,” Tom promised. “And may I point out that when I fail at something we have a slightly sticky floor for a while, and when you fail you knock out the lights in half of -”

“I’m not impugning your honor,” Carl interrupted.  “I just wanted to be sure you remembered why you don’t do that anymore.”

“I could make it work,” Tom said. “I just got distracted last time. If I did it again, I’d turn the TV off and lower the heat. But what I meant was that the structure of spun sugar, if done correctly, would make a great frame to rest a spell on. Particularly for an overlay for a time slide, which was why I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“I don’t see how that would work, it seems a bit delicate,” Carl said, “but you’re right, the space inside it is a neat shape. We should talk about it outside.”

“Why outside?”

“Because we have to walk Monty to the vet to pick up Annie,” Carl said, watching Tom’s face change as he realized he had completely forgotten and Annie was languishing without him. He would have burst out laughing if Tom were not so obviously distressed.

“My keys are here somewhere,” Tom said, rushing back to his table to paw through the books. “Oh Powers That Be, they put me in charge of a _planet?_ I can’t even remember to pick my dog up from the vet!”

Carl followed him, smiling in amusement. Monty, realizing what they were doing, almost knocked him over in his quest to get through the door before Carl did. “Just smile and pretend you know what you’re doing,” Carl said. “It works with the kids.”

“I’ve never been quite comfortable with that,” Tom said. “It feels like a lie of omission, even if it technically isn’t.”

“You don’t have to tell everyone all of your weaknesses just because they discovered one,” Carl said. “ Admit you are not an expert in the subject without admitting you are not an expert in the field, or that you are not very good at breathing. Adults do it to children, Seniors do it to wizards, Plantaries do it to Seniors, and I assume the Powers do it to Planetaries. Thanks, Monty,” he added, accepting the leash from the dog even though it had been in the fifth place they had decided Monty probably couldn’t get to it from. Clearly ‘high’ was not an actual barrier.

“I am not going to pursue that line of questioning on the grounds that it will make me uncomfortable,” Tom said.

“Everyone needs something to believe in,” Carl agreed amicably. “I’m not sure it’s still belief if you have proof.”

“I hate it when you go all backseat Grantaire on me,” Tom said. “All cynical philosophy and no keeping the dog out from under my feet.”

“Monty, _sit_ ,” Carl said, to a sudden still and silence. Both of the wizards were surprised by that. Monty looked guilty.

_Annie’s not here. I had to make up for her_ , he said.

“Right, well,” said Tom, and opened the door. Monty consented to follow in an orderly manner and sit nearly still while Carl locked the door, but as soon as Carl turned around he was up and wagging his tail, ready to set forth on a bold new adventure all the way down the street and to the vet he had visited and cried at just that morning.

“So about that time slide,” Carl said. “You think you could anchor it with the caramel that’s still in the floor?”

“There is no more caramel in the floor,” Tom said.

“You sure about that? Because I wouldn’t mind having a permanent sort of time slide in the kitchen.”

“No, but you would tease me about it every single time you used it to, I don’t know, make water boil instantly or catch the early bus.”

“That’s fair,” Carl said. “Do tell me about your sugar spell, though. Does it have a name, or any sort of handle?”

“The sugar spell will work for now,” Tom said. “There’re these cupcakes, see, and they’ve got sugar growing out of them, almost, it’s really cool. Plus you can make domes and - yeah, I told you about all of that before. Well, you couldn’t toss the Speech around like you do sugar, but if you were more careful with it, it would make an intricate sort of nest, or a three-dimensional spell pattern...”

Carl recognized his tone and mentally leaned back, ready to say yes or mmhm to whatever Tom asked him, since he just wanted to think out loud. He closed his eyes for a moment in the fading sunlight and took a moment to enjoy the planet he worked to protect. It was something worth protecting, so great and yet so fragile - like a wizard’s words, so easily nudged aside unless you came back and put them back, again and again and again, until you were half crazy doing so, but it was always worth it. Like Tom’s sugar spell, crossing itself over and over, and if you were just watching the fork go round it might drive you insane, but once you turned the bowl over, you could see the patterns it formed and how they held each other together across time and space.

That was what Carl was supposed to be good at, seeing where things needed to go and fitting them together. Sometimes he forgot; but then Carl was there, and Monty, and maybe that was how things were supposed to be, fitting together because they wouldn’t stand alone.


End file.
